Bloody Abyss
by Kasan Soulblade
Summary: TOA Asch centric fic. Red fell between her fingers, as red as blood, and he smiled at her. Obsession had brought him here, Obsession had been his love, and now, it was lost in a torrent of blood.
1. The Loving Son

"Bloody Abyss"

Chapter 1

The Loving Son 

SPOILER LACED FNFIC, don't read if you haven't finished the game!

_A/N: This is an attempt to get a "what if" scenario out of my head and onto paper. Right now it's kinda cannon centered, but that will change. I've written this sucker eight times, and it's been deleted, lost, etcetera, but I want to get this out before I lose it. So hopefully ninth time's a charm, eh? Too short to be a novel, to long to be a short story, I think this is a novella, and it should be done in a few day's time. But it might take me over a month to transfer it over due to my upcoming lack of computer access. I'll do what I can, as time permits. Story's pairings are Luke/Tear, Jade+Anise (friendship only), and Asch/Natalia, poor Guy... he's not healed enough to be dating anyone yet. Set during the Asch Batical scene, where Asch visits his and Luke's parents._

_Kasan Soulblade_

He sighed, bowing his head, he took in her scent and was relieved. The faint whisper of incense hung about her, that much was unchanged. He was aware, faintly, of her hands sliding though his hair. So much like hers… In length, in texture, their hair could have been twins, save for the dusty, lighter quality, of hers compared to his.

Tousled ruby gleamed between her fingers, soft as silk. It fell from her limp grasp, brushed against the pale green silk sleeve, and then fell away to cling to his black armor. She gasped weakly, as familiar pains pierced her back. Still, despite her pain, Susanne Fabre smiled and spoke the first words to her wayward son. Breaking the awkward silence and loosening her embrace so that she might step back and look at him in full.

"Welcome home."

Her voice was chocked, not by illness, but by tears. Though pain must plague her she seemed happy. She was happy he was home… So pale, so fragile, that had not changed. Out of all his hopes and dreams that he had nurtured… out of all the changes he would have wanted, the one he prayed for had not come to pass.

His hands were pale, the gloves he wore to keep the blood from staining his skin had seen to that. But when he reached to wipe away her tears he saw that her face was paler than his hands, and _without_ the aid of cosmetics. She was shaking, and he feared that her legs were going to buckle. With a briskness given to him by years serving in the military he ordered his father out of the way and lead his mother to the edge of her bed.

Madam Fabre, and Duke Fabre, had once been in love. But once upon a time, neither had even liked the other, and this room, their room, still held testament to that time. While it was some eighteen years distant the relics of it lingered in the form of two beds. Both Fabre's had separate beds, and while they seemed at peace with one another it might have been his Mother's ill health that kept them apart.

Or perhaps it had been some sadistic doctor's orders.

Regardless, Asch didn't care. Mother's bed was closest. He would have carried her there had he been allowed, but the steel in those emerald eyes persuaded him that "escort" was as far as he was going to get with her. Awkwardly his father tromped behind him, his leather riding boots clomped and rung across the rug with no heed to their value.

Riding boots, a _working_ ceremonial sword strapped to his side. While seeming occupied with his mother's comfort he considered his father out of the corner of his eye. Dark smears underscored the blue eyes of the sire of the Fabre line; his face was pale, but not as ghastly as his wife's.

"You should lie down." Asch ordered gruffly.

In response, Susanne shifted a bit. Then, as he turned to regard his father, she impishly reached up and with a trembling hand tugged his hair. He winced, instinct, and then turned and smiled for her. So she remembered. And seeing her remembrance he remembered more clearly.

The times she'd been so ill, too ill to put in any force behind her playful tugs of his hair. But he had winced and mock whined and complained… It was his way of saying that he knew she was trying, and his response had always humored her. Her laughter at his antics had been enough, or perhaps had given her enough from without, to fight within. To struggle away from death's door time and time again.

"I'll get scissors." He mock growled over his shoulder.

"No you won't. You like it long." His mother quipped.

Sighing, he rolled his eyes at his father, who was looking on with some confusion. But of course he should be confused. He'd shunned his child, the child marked for death by the Score. Distance had been dubbed better than the pain of knowing and losing.

So of course he wouldn't know of the hundred and one games between child and mother. The playful teasing, the talks…

Strength fading fast, Susanne tugged his cloak, and he turned. For now, he would forget the stranger who shared his blood and name. He looked down and she looked up and patted the bed besides her.

"You've… been away a long time…"

She hesitated, and his lips curled into a hard biting smile. She saw the hardness, the subtle glazing of steel to his emerald eyes. She didn't cringe back, never that, but she did wince.

She winced, from his pain, as if it were her own.

"Just… call me Asch… Mother. It will be easier… for everyone."

She leaned against him, and he could hear then, the faint catching of her breath in her lungs. The ever so slight rattle of encroaching illness. Looking past his mother, for a moment, he gave his father a meaningful look that said one word and made it a command.

_Her Medicine, now!_

Unable to read his son's glare, perhaps not willing too, Duke Fabre looked at some tapestry on the far wall and didn't do a damned thing. Asch almost curled his lips back to form a snarl, almost, but fear of upsetting and making Susanne sicker stayed him.

"Tell me… of your day. We've so much… to catch up on."

Gently he held her, and cursed his father for an insensitive fool. Then, thinking of Natalia, he managed a bit of a chuckle.

_Must be a Fabre trait, gross insensitivity…_

"That might take a while." He warned, managing to hold his smile in place.

"I've… all... the time… in the world… Asch."

Hearing her say... _that_ name. The name that was a parody of what he was supposed to have been, it drew the soul's blood. Still, he had insisted, and she had honored his wishes without protest.

He could not do anything else, save return the favor.

Looking upon Manor Fabre, his childhood home in Batical, he sighed. The memories were there, but when memory met reality something was lost. Blinking back an irritating stabbing pain from behind his eyes, Asch drew a deep breath.

He was aware of his mother's presence. It was an omnipresent warmth by his side even the walls around him blurred. He shuddered from the force of will it took to make the wave of weakness down, he banished the tears from his eyes with a stern mental reprimand, and turned to face her.

"Of course…" He whispered, his voice harsher than normal, made harsh by suppressed tears. "I'll tell you, like when I was little…"

He took her hand in his own, then began to talk of the small simple things that entailed his days. Skimping on no detail, no matter how miniscule it might seem to him, he knew it was not... Not to her.

His manner was that of a trusting, loving, son, of a young man who had nothing to hide from his parent. He showed his love now as he had then, though his honesty and forthrightness, and Susanne beamed at him. The edge of illness and age was taken from her by her wide dazzling smile, and his smile picked up a shred of warmth in response.

At last, she slept. He hadn't even finished half of his story, wasn't even though the day…. But it had been enough, to see the pain and hesitance leave her face, it had been enough.

_I'm an adult, reunited with a mother who thinks she knows me, but doesn't._

The thought was bitter sweet, and he savored it for a moment. Because under the cynical thought, was a shred of hope. Not for a place here... but for reconciliation. Some part of him, a selfish angry part, wanted to reach out, shake her shoulder, make her listen... He had so much more to tell. He wished he could have told her about the world within a faith, of the town amongst a ruined land that thrived despite nature's damndest. She would have appreciated the stories about Noir and the members of the Dark Dream... he knew that. Remembered distantly how she had once told him of seeing them when he was just a child.

Still... could have... all were possibilities, unfulfilled at that. The rare smile that graced his lips curled in bitterness, as he realized how much his life was ruled by that... by unfulfilled denied possibility.

His father came then, Duke Fabre tended his sleeping wife with seemly gentleness, even gently kissing his lady's brow before departing. Silent, sullen, Asch followed, the black and red cascot rustling about his ankles. His armor, well cushioned by leather padding and the ceremonial robes of his office, was muffled, it's clanking's minimal. That much Asch could not say for the spurs that adorned his father's riding boots. Biting his tongue, to keep a hot torrent of rebuke behind his teeth, Asch left his mother's room, and after spending a few moments with his wife the duke followed him.

They were alone, the polished stones that served at the manor's floor and walls gleamed dully in the miasma laden air. With a hand, Asch brushed the stone. The motion was done in the vain hope that he could wipe away the unreal tinge of violet from the stone, as if doing so he could wipe it away from the world. He stared at the wall, ignored the tapestries declaring with vibrant colors the exploits of the Fabre family. He stared at the violet tinge, and hated it. His hatred was so intense that it make his body quake. From a world away, his father's voice intruded upon his rage, and melded with it, becoming an underscoring symphony that was carried into his mind on red tinged notes.

"It's obvious that your mother's health has declined... it seems cruel to hide it, so with her consent I am being open about it."

"I doubt that _Luke_ has noticed." Asch spat. He brushed past his father, ignored the hand that would have settled on his shoulder and offered comfort. "The drek wouldn't know where he's going if there wasn't that brown haired girl dragging him about." Mutely he stared out the window, unseeing. Mentally he cursed the maisma, Van, the Score, and the replica, with all his heart and soul. He indulged in his moment's safety to actually waste some time and properly seethe, making a small show of it. Going so far as to clench his hands into fists and allow his control to slip so that color could rise to his face. "Damn it!" He punched the unoffending wall and he hissed in pain, some of his rage abating due to his pain.

"We think it might be the mias-"

"Oh really?" Asch whirled from the window to stare at his father. His green eyes flashing, his face turning a shade or two darker. "Could it possibly be that the poisons of the earth, now being exuded into the atmosphere by the shortsightedness of your false son's plan, might possibly be contributing to Mother's ill health? Who'd have guessed?" He continued callously, ignoring his father's look of shock and pain. "Was it her history of repertory problems of the fact that she has acute asthma attacks that tipped you o-"

Shock resolved to anger, and while Duke Fabre did not lift his hand, there was a glimmer in his green eyes that cut Asch off mid word.

"That is enough, son." The elder Fabre snapped, the anger in his town cowing Asch in, for the moment. "That is more than enough."

Asch shelved his anger for the moment and took a deep breath. He was aware of his father's gaze on him, and strove to cool the fire in his blood. Eventually the heat around his face dissipated, and he unclenched his fists.

"Luke's plan was somewhat short sighted, but considering the desperation of the time, I would say that my _younger son's_ plan wasn't half bad. Perhaps if my _youngest and eldest sons_ would have ceased fighting one another to work together things might have been different." The eldest Fabre snapped, biting of the proclamation that both Luke and Asch were his like one would spit a curse. Just the idea made Asch's head spin. Anger faded though, and after a deep breath that was coupled with a sigh, Duke Fabre continued. "That however, is neither here nor now. The country, the world, both come before all of us, you know duty. I've had enough time with you to teach you that much."

Nettled by his father's reprimand, Asch studied his own reflection in the glass, cast in shades of green earth and violet hued skies.

"So you have." Asch admitted quietly. "I... was twelve... when Van... made the switch."

"And I was an ignorant fool, who never noticed that something was wrong. And... when I finally did notice... I thought of it not in terms of compassion... but shame. The replica of you, Luke, he shamed me. Where was my son, my real son? I asked that to myself, and cursed the fact that the boy that had your name and face was so... ignorant."

"You and me both." Asch growled, thinking of Akzeriuth with a grimace. Then he turned, faced his father a tired sigh passing his lips as he corrected his parent for the second time on one day. "And it's Asch."

"You're Luke, both of you are my sons."

"Luke is the barer of the flame, I am Asch..."

"-The charred remains left by the flame. So Natalia said in her last letter."

Raising a brow, Asch looked at his weary father, a small smile curled his lip in one corner.

"She still writes to Daddy and Aunty, hmmm?"

"Unlike irresponsible others who skip simple correspondence for years, yes."

"It wasn't my fault, Van would ha-" Asch stopped, then stared at his smiling father in shock. "You... just made a... a joke..."

Silence stretched between them, and Asch nearly laughed at the incredibility of the situation. His father only looked at him, the few wrinkles on his hawkish face smoothed away by the uncharacteristic smile. Of all the shocks, of all the changes Asch would have expected from his father... Running a calloused hand though his graying hair, Duke Fon Fabre shrugged off his son's scrutiny, moved closer, and stared out the window. After a span, Asch looked over his shoulder, and considered his father in a new light.

"When did mother get the time to retrain you?"

"This year... after your younger brother's disappearance. We had... a lot of time together. I was unaccustomed to that, but I'm getting old... too old to be running from war to war in my brother's name." Duke Fabre chuckled. "You know what Susanne said when I finally got the nerve to confess that to her? She said; '_Finally, it took you long enough. A man your age, going off to war every chance he gets, it's undignified_... _Now sit, we've a lot to talk about_.' It's the first time I've talked to her.. in years."

Thinking on the moment, when he'd finally seen her, for the first time in years, Asch nodded. He swallowed the hard sharp lump that formed in his throat, and looked again over his shoulder. There was a distance between them, still, but hopping for some miracle, for some inner healing was a farce. As if time would somehow knit the distance of an estranged relationship that dated back to his childhood. Licking his lips, Asch tried his voice, and was pleased that it didn't break, as much as it wanted to.

"I know the feeling."

When his father put his hand upon his shoulder it took all of Asch's will not to shrug it off, to jerk away. He shook though, ever so slightly, and mentally smirked as he realized what Duke Fabre must be thinking. Let his father think him holding back tears of joy for a home-coming long denied, the lie was gentle where the truth was not.

Asch looked out the window and as he had before his father had drawn near... He cursed the miasma, cursed Van... cursed everything. In his mind he burned it away, all the taint and filth born of the Score was but ashes in his eyes.

And in the light of the newly made, the clean blue sky he saw light brown locks and dancing hazel eyes.

In the clean, spared from the flames of his fury, he saw Natalia, the flame, the soul, of Kimlasca Laventeer, and Asch smiled.


	2. Asch and Ginji

Bloody Abyss

_A/N: Sorry about the miss spell of the ship, can someone give me the right spelling? I haven't had time to play due to work. A short update._

Chapter 2

Ginji and Asch

"I can just imagine your dinner at the Fabre mansion." Ginji teased while Asch absently reached behind him. A flip of a switch later and the doors of the black Albiore slid shut behind him. With an ill contented hiss they closed off the dismal view of the violet mist shrouded spires of Batical being pelted with rain. Still chatting happily, the "borrowed" pilot, of the "borrowed" air ship blissfully followed his "captor" deeper into the heart of Sheridan's pride and joy. Deepening his voice, Ginji tried to mimic Duke Fon Fabre's voice and mimed scolding Asch. "Stop using hyper resonance at the table, stop giving your brother migrains, you cut the rappig steak with the knife, not your sword..."

Asch simply began to wring out his cascot and ignored Ginji's one sided chatter. Miasma tainted water splattered against the black floor of the second -or was it the third?- Albiore of Sheridan, but knowing the industrious people of Sheridan they weren't pinning over the loss. They were probably making something even bigger, capable of flight, hovering… and swimming. Asch shuddered, bad enough they had to fly from place to place, but the idea of a submersible vessel made his blood run cold.

"Are you cold? Your shaking, you know." Ginji informed him with what was probably a wide smile. "Of course you're cold, stupid me, it's raining outside for Yulia's sake! I'll get you your spare coa-"

Asch smirked, knowing well the boy wouldn't see it. Considering the winds had tossed his hair into his face, and considering how thick and long his hair was the odds of Ginji seeing anything of Asch's face but a red haired mass were all but non-existent. Once in control of his visage, Asch parted the screen of red with a gloved hand.

"_You_ aren't going anywhere."

Ginji froze, almost out of the room. Asch glared at Ginji, uncaring and so unnoticing the somewhat messy state of that which he had dubbed the head of the Albiore. Ginji regularly corrected him on that score, calling the glass domed room a cockpit. Regardless of it's name though, after one passed the row of seats (Ginji still called them observation posts, but it had four legs –albeit they were bolted to the floor- and a place to sit, a chair was a chair after all) you went into the body of the Albiore and could easily find the private quarters for those living within . Ginji had, after overcoming his terror of the grim bloody haired swordsman, asked what the rules were. After some thought Asch had made up a few that seemed appropriate and had let the matter drop.

After terror had passed, and a grudging friendship had been sown between the two wildly different young men, Ginji had learned that he could break whatever rules he wanted. So long as his breaking of the rules didn't wake Asch or leave any problems that Asch would have to tend to later. Save one rule, the most important rule that would send Asch into a wild frenzy if he even _thought_ it was broke.

"What's yours is yours, what's mine is mine. You don't pry and I don't break your bones in response to your prying, understand?"

Ginji had understood, and he'd nodded so wildly that it had been a wonder his head hadn't flown off. Intimidated by the spark of real anger in the rouge god-general's eyes, Ginji had followed that rule when he'd scorned all others.

But comfortable with the knowledge that he was one of the few friends Asch allowed himself to have, the pilot decided to test the red haired man's patience and dared to tease.

One foot hung comically in the air, as if his words had stopped the boy mid-step, Ginji turned to face him, eyes far too wide and innocent. Asch snorted, he had been half expecting the attempt for over a month. Prying, curious, those born of Sheridan picked apart everything, conversations, ideas, devices… The wonder of a god-general's private quarters, and being denied to see such wonders must have been driving Ginji wild…

"Since you don't have anything to do get the mop." Looking behind him, Asch grimaced at the purple tinted trail. "I tracked some water in."

"C... Clean it up yourself!" The young man flared, sounding much younger than his fifteen years.

Asch didn't say a thing. He silently glared, and let the irritated glimmer to his green eyes do all the talking. Shaking, Ginji lifted his hands in surrender, and moved to go deeper into the Albiore. At the door, the boy paused.

"Dinner… wasn't that bad, at the Fabre mansion, was it? I mean, there wasn't a big explosion like when you do your hyper-resonance, and there wasn't a mob coming down here after your blood..."

Lips twisting into a bitter silent snarl Asch shook his head.

"And I'm guessing from your bad mood you didn't kill your replica…"

Flushing, as crimson as his hair, Asch silently glared at Ginji. Tactless, as most youths were, the boy was oblivious to his peril and plowed ahead with his budding theory.

"Oh, did Natalia dump you? That would make sen-"

"There wasn't a dinner! I didn't stay!" Asch roared.

"But... I thought you were visiting your fami-"

"I was checking matters with the replica!" Asch snarled, then taking a deep breath the red mist around his mind cleared. He could see the boy's wide and frightened eyes, and seeing such naked terror the fallen God General got a grip on his temper. He let the worst of it out when he exhaled his deep breath, and with shaking hands unwound the cascot that had nearly been his death on the walk back. He'd stormed out of house Fabre, temples pounding in time with his anger hightened pulse, shoved past the groveling Ramas... And a storm had hit, water had made his clothes and hair heavy, wind making both into afixiation hazards. Still he managed to make it to the winds ravaging the docks, and all he wanted was a chance to dry off and think...

He'd wrung it dry as best as his shaking hands would allow and tossed the black and red fabric onto the nearest chair. Next came the split tailed coat he favored and had cast in the proper priest warrior hues of somber red and black... Runes within runes, thier Scorian symbolism as well as thier crisp cut lines had been lost when they'd been first stained with blood. He let that fall behind him, sheading it and absently kicking it away. With shaking hands he pealed off his gloves, threw them blindly behind him...

When he finally was in control of himself he looked up to see that Ginji was gone. The boy had probably run, was hiding somewhere in some small dank room hoping Asch wouldn't find him...

Alone, Asch cursed, though if it was at himself or at Ginji, or something else, he wasn't sure.


	3. Squishy Impact

Bloody Abyss

Chapter Three

Flying Problems

_A/N: I was going to merge this chapter with the last, but considering that the last time I was on was my last day in a week that I'd be able to get online... I cut it in half and made some aditions so there'd at least be an update until the next time I could get to a computer. This is another short update, since the library is now back open I'll be able to work on this -and my other stories- more frequently. _

Unaccustomed to flying the first time he had "barrowed" the airship and its pilot, Asch had tried to sleep in the bunks provided while Ginji continued flying at night. That had been a disaster, and when he was in a good mood –a rare thing, fast becoming rarer in the last days of his life- Asch would crack a smile while Ginji would exaggerate his falls and curses. It had been that bad, truly it had been hell, and Ginji trying to act like him had been funny.

The first or second time it was funny, after the fiftieth Asch had cuffed the boy and told him to get back to flying.

Ginji sniggered, and Asch speared the brat with his most hostile glare in his repertoire of glares, vile looks, and biting sarcasm mixed with grating harshness.

Rubbing his bruised shoulder, Asch rumbled a few threats under his breath.

Ginji only choked; lifting a hand he turned laughter into coughs and proceeded to look at the purple highlighted white mist that surrounded their ship.

"I haven't forgiven you for this morning." Asch snarled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I haven't forgiven you for last week. You promised me a good dinner for all this hard work."

"If you want to be mad at someone…" Asch began.

"And it's not Luke's fault, you could have brought something from your manner or something."

"I." Asch said with a dangerous detached coolness. "Will not steal from my parent's kitchen to give you an extravagant meal."

"I'll do another loop." Ginji snapped.

"You want to die?" Asch snarled.

Paling at the genuine threat Ginji went back to working the Albiore's controls, muttering something about slave drivers.

The boy knew nothing about slave drivers. Absently tracing a scar -one of many- that ran from a point above his left temple and wound across the back of his skull, Asch growled. Ginji didn't know cruelity, the boy was sheltered, protected by a sib, sheltered from the intrigues of the world by his studies and the isolation of his homeland from the centers of the world.

Two capitals, two countries, two centers of ambition and power.

Sighing, Asch leaned back into his chair, his blood shot eyes closing for the first time in hours. Would he sleep? If Ginji wasn't stupid, taking out his childish anger by flying wildly with the Albiore, could he sleep? Perhaps, he was weary enough, physically spent, so much so that Ginji had noticed and tried to get him to travel to Belkend to seek treatment before this little stunt had began.

With a shaking hand he traced the scar, a souvenir of a training session with Largo. Seeing Ginji's concerned gaze on him he dropped his hands and folded them over his stomach and leaned back. The chair, one of the marvels of intelligent reclining design, gently folded back. In a few moments he was nearly lying on a mattress like surface, the only flaw to the device was that the platform that elevated his legs was too short, and his feet dangled over the edge. They were going to be asleep, whenever he woke up...

Sparing a glance from the shadowy surreal mists Ginji saw that Asch was falling asleep.

Biting down on his frustration and irritation, the young Sheridan pilot swallowed something tasteless and large -probably his bruised ego. Grimacing, wincing, Ginji eased up on the Albiore's controls, slowing their travel to a mere crawl so that the hum of fon stone powered accelerators and thrusters and the like quieted to a bare whisper.

Asch would complain of course. The man would whine about the loss of time, and pace the length and width of the ship, and curse Ginji... But Asch always did that.

"Why do I like you, again?" Ginji asked the sleeping black clad man under his breath.

Asch's only answer was a quiet snore.

X

_Jade hued eyes flicked upon him and picked him out of the darkness with startling ease. The pale lips curled into a thin watery smile as he considered all around him. Here, at his beckoning, Ion had gathered his enemies around him for dinner. Had the Fon Master been malicious Asch would have never come. He remembered history, how one distant dynasty of Malkuth had been wiped out when a cunning foe had gathered all his enemies around him and had poisoned the meal set before his guests after carefully dosing himself with the anti-venom before joining them for their final supper._

_"Please, Asch, it's been so long, sit."_

_Grudgingly Asch sat, took his seat between Largo and Dist. His skin crawled as he joined them. Dist sported a sizzling black hole in his chest and seemed oblivious to it. Wining and dinning, the egocentric god general adjusted his pink boa with a wide smile. The gaudy fathers that had been set in place to bring emphasis to his smile did little more than to guild the eyes down, to emphasize the horrible wound. Despite himself, Asch shuddered, and mechanically began to eat the bowl of soup set before him. Largo was to his left, and Asch didn't look up, couldn't look up. But he was aware of the man because the widening stain of red that ran around Largo's bowl was slowly dribbling into Asch's part of the table. Occasionally Largo would growl for some condiment to add to his meal -the pepper more than anything else, the raw amount needed to appease the large man's pallet made Asch's head reel and his eyes water- and the red that ran from Largo's wounds would slick the shakers of bowls that were handed to him._

_Asch reached for something... something didn't taste right. The soup was like air, he reached for some seasoning and the blood from Largo's touch made the bowl of salt fall from his hands._

_From ahead an the left, Legretta tisked, Van rumbled deep in his throat his disapproval. Asch did not look up, he shook, holding in a torrent of emotion that would have exploded into violence if he dared give it any leash._

_Small feet wearing smaller boots clicked across the polished dun hued tiles of chapel. A child's hand touched his elbow. Startled, he jerked his head back. He hated to be touched, would have roared that, save the tears that were barely hidden in the Fon Master's eyes stilled him._

_"Are you sick? You seem sick."_

_"I'm fine!" He snapped, pushing back from the table, he stepped back, and was standing again in the rain swept streets of Batical._

_Ion stood besides him, his young face so pale, the pallor of his face like that of a dead man's... He felt a tug on one of the pockets of his robes, and only the slight tightening of those small hands on his arm stilled him. At the boy's gesture, Asch knelt, and Ion leaned forward, to whisper in his ear._

_"I know what it's like, to be sick and you can't do anything about it. Get medicine for your friend, what's her name?"_

_Numb, his lips pale as death, Asch said one name. "Noir."_

_"I'll pray for Noir, tonight. Rest well, Maestro Asch Sahguin."_

_And Ion left him, a child alone in Batical, with only the rain and steam wraiths to keep him company._

X

Eyes wide yet empty, his facade a mask of horrors seen and unvoiced, Asch jolted awake. His sword cleared it's sheath before sense had returned to his mind. Ginji, who had come abandoned the controls, setting the Albiore to autopilot to do so, walked up to the shaking God General. His motive was that of friendship, only wanting to know what was wrong, seeing the sword out he stepped back and tripped over his own two feet. The sword followed him, even as he fell. It pressed against his throat, drawing a thin line of red. After a long stress filled moment, where Ginji whimpered in terror and Asch stood over him panting in an animal rage, the wild blaze cast in emerald eyes was slow to die. Sense returned to the older man's cat green eyes by degrees, at last with an apologetic sounding grunt, Asch sheathed his sword and watched as Ginji crawled to his feet.

"By Yulia's score!" Ginji cried out. "Don't ever do that to me aga-"

Eyes wide, Asch looked to some point beyond Ginji, at the darkening mists outside and turned an interesting hue of milk white.

"Mushroom!"

So much for sense returning to the god general. With an exasperated snort, Ginji turned, beginning a hash lecture on how a _mushroom_ wasn't going to stop the Albiore Three. He saw and then froze, his words becoming a senseless gurgle in his throat. The last thing that happened before he passed out -and they made impact against the largest mushroom Ginji had ever imagined could exist- was Asch leaping past him, reaching for the controls with the wild idea that he'd steer them out of the way.

Impact occurred with an interesting squelching sound and the world went dark.


	4. Arival

_A/N: Hopefully this will be the last short update in a while, the chapters should get longer after this one._

Bloody Abyss

Chapter 4

Reasonable Concern

"Explosion!" Lifting his blade to heaven, he released the fonons that his song had roused. His voice, as it had fallen and risen in an age old chant, had beckoned heat from the ground, the air, from Ginji, and a twist to the melody had turned heat to fire. Flames had come, and at his roared final word he released them. A spire of crimson smashed into the base of the mushroom, and the Albiore fell from it's inglorious perch at long last.

Somehow, despite the fonon drain and the weakness brought on by his illness he managed to stay standing. Granted the fact that he impaled his blade on the Albiore's steel side might have had something to do with that... Unsupported, unprepared, Ginji fell head over heels over the side of the Albiore and landed in the water with a loud wail.

For a moment Asch considered being nice. Of summoning the energy to journey to the edge of the ship and see if Ginji was alright. If he wasn't Asch was confident he could call forth enough fonons to push the man to some bit of floating mycoid. Confidence, kindness, and plans aside, his knees weren't cooperating. They bucked, and he collapsed, his hands wrapped around the hilt of his blade.

Pride alone was all the kept him standing.

And even that failed him when he closed his eyes to rest them for a moment and the world went black.

X

"And after I swam back there you were, out cold, pale as a sheet, slumped over your sword." Ginji snapped, glaring down at a groggy Asch. The young pilot's open face softened to a look of deep concern that made the god general wince. "I thought you were dead."

Stubbornly Asch tried to hold onto the thought that Ginji was only concerned, that the boy cared for him and it was only that that was making him over react. Still, his growled "I'm fine," wasn't very gracious.

"We're going to Belkend." Ginji announced with unbecoming crispness that reminded Asch of someone, but in his stupefied state he wasn't sure who. "I don't want to hear any arguments, people don't collapse after they cast a few spells."

"It was the size of the smallest tower in Batical." No comprehension flickered in Ginji's eyes. Belatedly Asch recalled the boy hadn't even seen much of Batical, save a glimpse of the city of light through the Albiore's port hole. "It's the size of..." Asch mentally floundered, mathematics, science, especially physics, they weren't his strong suits. Talking in feet, yards, or miles didn't make much sense to a man who gauged things on a more personal scale of perspective and observation than a scientific one. Remembering some of his history on Sheridan a comparison flashed into the warrior's mind that made him crack a small smile. "...of the rocket tower."

"Was not!" Ginji huffed.

"Know how much energy it takes to burn down a tower?" Asch asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone condescendence incarnate. "A great deal. And the fonons here aren't from warm blooded or even warm creatures... There just isn't anything for to take fifth fonons from, so I had to make a lot of them out of the seventh. It's a lot of work to do it once, but ten times? I'm surprised I woke up today, much less an hour later."

"How do you know what time it-" Ginji grumbled the last of the question while Asch pinned him with a smug gaze that made the boy growl. "Fine, so you know more than me. You always do! How's that new?" Still grumbling Ginji stood. "You really want to get to Mushroom Road so bad that you drag yourself there half dead, fine! Don't come crying to me when some egg headed mushroom zombie comes out of some mushroom choked abyss to eat you while your running around down there like a chicken with it's head cut off! What's so important that's out there that you're willing to die for it? Answer me that!"

With effort Asch managed to keep a straight face while maintaining his silence, and Ginji ranted some more about stupid suicidal priest-knights and stormed out.

The boy's last words though hung in the air behind him, and only long after Ginji was gone did Asch answer them.

My Mother's sick, she needs medicine. You wouldn't believe me capable of caring for someone like that, would you Ginji?"

Since Ginji was gone, there was only silence, and in his mind he amused himself in taking it in as shocked silence and with a humored chuckle he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

X

"We're here."

Sullenly Ginji announced their arrival, it was the most surliness Asch had heard out of the boy yet. Raising an eyebrow, the god general pushed himself out of the "observation post", and walked to the glass head of the Albiore three. To amuse the boy he'd started calling the chairs observation posts, and he had yet to be rewarded for folding to the boy's side. Granted, it was essentially a stupid argument, and Ginji might not care anymore...

Sighing Asch shook his head, the black edge of his lounging robe brushed the floor behind him. It had a sinister look -at least if you asked Ginji it was sinister looking- the red on the black. But to him a blank black robe with his red hair draped over it wasn't all that intimidating. But after spending the bulk of his childhood, adolescence, and adulthood amongst the robed priests of the order of Lorelie might have twisted his thinking on that score.

Frowning he cocked his head to the side, and stared blankly at what he thought was the mold encrusted ground that Ginji had picked to as a port. Wrapped in a haze of mist that offered surreal highlights to the mycoid tower -not all the mists were _just_ a miasma tinted purple- it was somewhat surreal to see a multitude of mushrooms claw with stubby putrid fingers at the belly of heaven.

_And I have to find one specific mushroom... out of all of that..._

Eyes a little wild Asch abandoned his post and went to the nearest seat. Curious, Ginji set the Albiore on auto-hover and left his post to look at Mushroom Road. With an awed whistle the pilot returned and looked at Asch.

"It was nice knowing you."

"Ginji," With effort Asch checked the impulse to get up and throttle the boy. "shut up."


	5. Excuses

Bloody Abyss

_A/N: Somewhat short chapter, sorry for the wait. It's been hard getting comp access these last few weeks._

Chapter 5

Excuses... 

"If you get eaten by some mushroom zombie don't go crying to me about it!" Ginji snapped as he pressed the button to close the Albiore's door.

The speech probably might have been more powerful had the boy actually slammed the door. But with the Albiore you could only get away with pressing buttons because that's how it was set up. Asch merely kept his scowl in place, arms crossed over his chest, and glared. Once the boy got an idea he didn't let it drop, and after half a day of being nagged to death about being eaten by mushroom zombies Asch had enough of the outre saying. Luckily for them both the door was closed, Ginji couldn't say anything more to him, so the matter –for now at least- was said and done. Satisfied that Ginji wasn't going to do something stupid, like open the door to yell at him some more, Asch turned on his heel and marched across the mold encrusted beach. He mentally shuddered as he walked across the grimy green ground, and tried not to breathe too deeply.

Mushroom Road had a smell reminiscent of rotting vegetable matter. The cloying sick sweet smell that graced the air gathered in the back of his throat and suck like bad medicine, and after a few moments of walking through it he realized his first –and probably most vital battle if he was going to succeed at this impromptu mission- was to keep from being ill. He tried to ignore the familiar –if utterly artifice- scents of fruits and vegetables that were an undercurrent to the rot. By taking small breaths he was able to do so, as well as valiantly not thinking about food. The latter was hard, because it had been a very long time since he'd had a decent meal. Hard bread, meat, and the occasional bite of lettuce didn't qualify as food in his book, at least as _good_ food.

Shaking himself by the mental scruff he forced himself to stop thinking about food, then his stomach growled and he grimaced.

"Double crossing _Dre_-"

His completion of the ancient ispanian word for "bastard" was cut short by a roar. In less than an eye blink he'd drawn his blade and whirled toward the sound. As he made out the shape that crested… no that _caused_ the gigantic wave of water the crashed into the beach farther up ahead he almost smiled. Shaking his head, he turned to the largest sturdiest fungi he could find, and using sword and knife hacked into the trunk of a massive umbrella capped mushroom. Making due with the wet, slimy, hand holds provided by the multitude of fungi wounds, he scaled his way up the slick stem, and watched. The wave smashed into the beach some distance ahead, he watched as the force of Noelle's landing set globs of mold to breaking off and floating on the stagnate lake like miniature islands. He was grateful than for what Ginji had dubbed his "extreme paranoia". Due to the fact he'd ordered Ginji to back up and put the Albiore three in the relatively safe confines of a beach over shadowed by a giant mushroom cap they wouldn't have seen him or his ship from above.

Granted with the mists and the fact that Ginji's sister was somewhat beached by her impromptu landing the odds of them seeing him even if he had been standing right in front of the Albiore two waving his arms and hollering….

Letting go his hand hold, infinitely grateful that he hadn't placed his Albiore on that beach and gotten a fungus laden shower, Asch hit the slimy ground and checked an instinctive roll to kill his momentum. Wincing a bit in pain he gritted his teeth and headed to the beach that his replica had landed on at a run. He staggered a bit, his ankles giving him hell from absorbing the bulk of his fall but he was _not_ going to spend the next week combing mold out of his hair.

Lips curling at the echo of his old noble vanity, Asch ran, hand on the hilt of his blade. His blade occasionally ripped from it's sheath to scythe a path though the oddly shaped vegetation that got in his way. As he neared the Albiore that wasn't his, he had to ask himself why he was even tailing them. He was running a risk of being discovered, and he'd already sworn up and down anything left sacred in this world he wasn't going to deal with the replica or his hanger-ons anymore. He ran and considered coming to them openly. While the plan had it's merits -the more people looking for the blasted Death Cap the better chances of him making it out before the world's population keeled over and died from miasma poisoning- it meant talking to the replica.

_But... perhaps, for a moment he could see Natalia. She still might be traveling abroad, "for the good of the people of __Kimlasca Lanvaldear__"._

One excuse was as good as another, hers and his. And despite the little lies they told themselves they might be compatible for a time.


	6. Starting Encounter

Bloody Abyss 

Chapter 6 

Encounter 

_A/N: Still focusing on my TOA fic, Bloody Abyss, more chapters to come. Sorry about the lack of updates but my comp access is touch and go. With the charming climate where I live not only is computer access limited but my ability to write hampered by the extreme weather. Kasan Soulblade _

The end of the world was coming, not through Miasma poisoning, but through some flamboyant apocalyptic cataclysm. It had to be, he'd sworn that the world would end in some Score worthy grandiose manner before Ginji was right.

And Ginji was right, and the proof was right in front of him. Swearing, Asch jumped back, and the rotting thing reached to better secure its prey. The move was costly, his foot almost slid out from under him on some patch of mold, but the stumble saved him. Clawed fingers grazed the air mere centimeters in front of his face. Rot encrusted hands lightly tugged at the flared black cascot, like some diseased petitioner seeking salvation. Asch snarled, primal living ferocity though paled under the eternal disease induced hatred of the zombie before him, but where hate paled, his sword did not. With a sickening crunch steel sheared through moldy knee caps, the creature buckled under the force of the god general's attack, still reaching to rend and tear even as it fell.

Well let it rend and tear, it would probably be an improvement for the ground. Sheathing his blade Asch watched as the monster's impotent struggled. It managed half a centimeter forward, before its impotent suicidal hate made it soundlessly open its mouth and howl soundless curses.

Unimpressed Asch crossed his arms in front of his chest and snorted.

"You defeated yourself." He noted coldly, as if the creature would understand and learn from the experience... Chuckling the rogue god general shook his head. Ginji was rubbing off in a bad way if he was sympathizing so easily with the lesser creatures around him. Amused, he walked around the creature, and decided to wait somewhere else that wasn't occupied by such... noisy violent company.

X

"Meeh!"

No, it's 'bleh'." Squinting up his eyes Luke made the proper noise and stuck out his tongue. always the eager pupil, Mieu looked up at his master and nodded to show he absorbed the lesson. At a prompting nod the Cheagle wrinkled his snout, slicked back his ears, and squinted before giving out the prescribed "blech". Laughing Luke clapped his approval. It was a small encouragement for the inches high creature, but with Mieu he appreciated any scaps of "Master's" approval that he could reap. "So, when Natalia says "I'm cooking tonight," you...?" Oblivious to the hiss behind him that marked a doors opening Luke poked the suddenly wide eyed Cheagle. "Come on Mieu, we've been over this. What do you do?"

"Run away!" And with that the Cheagle made a mad dash for Luke's bed. Too small to bound up and take cover under the covers the small mouse creature didn't even try. He slid under the bed, his small claws click clicking on the steel floor of the Albiore. Laughing, oblivious to the on coming threat, the nobleman of Kimlasca birth got on his hands and knees and parted the shivering bed skirt with a hand. Poking his head through he looked at the wide eyed shaking Cheagle. "Nah, that's what you do when Jade starts walking around in that doctor's outfit of his." Cocking his head to the side -as much as his position would allow- Luke frowned as he took in the shook up Cheagle. "Mieu, what's wro-?"

"Luke Fon Fabre!" Stomping a delicate foot Natalia crossed her arms in front of her chest and huffed, an equally annoyed Tear bringing up the rear. "What in Yulia's name are you teaching that poor Cheagle?"

"Wha-!" Jerking up, he tried to whirl and face the intruders to his room. The fact he had half stuffed himself under the bed to better look for Mieu detrude that plan. Gasping in pain, rubbing a throbbing head, Luke crawled back and whirled once his head was free. He looked up at the brown clad scorer and the blue and white clad princess, a sheepish smile curling his lips. "Oh... hi Natalia... Tear..."

"We were worried." Tear growled, "You locked your door, wouldn't come out, and so we badgered Noel endlessly for her to give us the key only to come and find you've been teaching Mieu bad manners!"

Despite the former Scorer and current princess' wildly different backgrounds they found a familiar front and unified into a twofold terrifying front of two women scorned. Luke opened his mouth to say something, when Jade scenting the uncomfortable situation -much the way a shark scented blood in clean water- decided to add his tidbit. Poking his pallid face into the room the Malkuth Colonel grinned at them all.

"Really Luke, you _should_ be ashamed." Jade waited, and right before either woman could snap at him to leave or claim he was in the right the blue clad fonist finished his sentiment, his grin widened into a full blown smirk. "Dragging both poor women into your room to propose and floundering whilst doing so."

"Propose!" Luke screamed, recoiling back against the bed and thinking of slipping under it. "Me... to Tear _and _Natalia. Are you crazy old man?"

Turning crimson Tear whirled on Jade, outrage for once open on her normally controlled expression. Natalia gasped, and then blinking rapidly she wiped at her eyes. "Not if he was the last man in Kimlasca Lavandear or Malkuth!" The princess flared as she stormed out of the room.

Quirking his eyebrows Jade stepped aside for the Kimlascan royalty then bravely poked his head back into the room. "Aren't you going to fix tha-"

Tear's thrown pillow caught him square in the face. Before the Colonel could counter, with comment or fonic art Tear strode across the room and with the press of a button made the door slam in his face. Whipping her hands on the front of her brown cascot, Tear's expression and manner told him louder than words she thought the encounter with Jade had been rather vile. Luke knew the feeling. Despite Luke's friendship with Jade there was something rather unpleasant about the Malkuth Colonel when he decided to take stabs at people.

Jade enjoyed reaction no matter the circumstance or form. The Colonel took pleasure when he evoked pleasure or pain in his friends. Granted Jade tried to keep the daggers out of his comments -if he didn't he'd have been attacked by everyone or maybe just thrown out of the Albiore while they were flying- but the fact still remained that he delighted in discomfiture and took pains to inspire it in those around him.

With a sigh Luke squirmed to his feet, and finally with a groan decided sliding off the side of the bed to land on the floor would do. It was hard being friends with a restrained, slightly moral abiding, sadist. Rubbing his rear Luke lolled his head back and studied Tear from half closed eyes.

"M' sorry for worrying you."

"You've been so quiet." Tear quietly walked across the room, her dark eyes combed the room for a suitable place to sit. She paused then, realizing that the small bed was the only place to rest. Pretending to ignore her discomfiture Luke checked a grin and closed his eyes all the way and just listened to her boots click against the steel floor. There was a creak; practicality seemed to overrule unease as Tear seated herself on the edge of his bed. He sat still for a long moment then chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm scared. The miasma, everything that's happened. I guess it's been catching up with me."

"You've had plenty of reason to be scared. W- You've been through a great deal. You've seen and done more than most people do in the whole of their lives..." She set her hand on his head... and began petting him? Luke stiffened at the caress then jerked away from her touch. Tear obligingly pulled back her hand and stared at it, rather than look at him.

The words came, slow, congealed by his disbelief. "Tear... were you just _petting_ me?"

"Tear pets good, Master!" Came the forever cheerful happy go luck opinion of the Cheagle under his bed.

"N... No one asked you!" Luke roared at Mieu

"I... see you are feeling better. That's good. We'll be landing on Mushroom road in a bit and there are some last minute preparations I need to oversee." Quietly Tear got to her feet and left.

Alone in the room Luke stared at the door Tear had just walked out of wondering if he had just done something wrong.

"We're going to Mushroom Road! Mushroom Road, Mushroom Road..." Oblivious to the drama going around him the little Cheagle sang in glee and capered around in the darkness under Luke's bed.

"Yeah..." Setting his chin on his hands Luke growled. "whoopee..."

X

Had it been safer he would have gone into trance to see what was taking so long. He'd been standing in this stagnant murk for half an hour and no one had come down the path. Pacing and swearing, Asch glared at the clearest path leading deeper into Mushroom Road then back at the silver crest that towered over the oversized fungi caps and marked the location of "Luke's" Albiore.

"Ten minutes," Asch hissed, "then I go on alone. To hell with safety in numbers, Mother's not getting any better with my daw..."

Motion. Asch drew his blade and slid into the shadows offered by one of the towering umbrella capped mushrooms, he pressed his bare blade against the folds of his black cascot limiting the chance of a glint of light on steel giving him away. Still and silent, little more than a shadow, he watched the path. From the fact he could barely make out those approaching he guessed it safe enough Asch pulled the neck of his black coat up to better obscure the telling paleness of his face. Emerald eyes were like edges of knifed, unflinching and piercing they peered out of the darkness until he was absolutely certain of those who approached. Satisfied he grunted and stepped out from the darkness.

The effect of his 'magical' appearance was amusing to say the least. They came forward for a bit more, than stopped in bits and pieces. The Replica was the first to see him. In shock he stopped, and the brunette Cantor he had been talking too turned and spotted him. A flash of gold and silver sliver of steel told him the lagging Guy had spotted him and was expecting another attack in his "master". Ignoring his old friend Asch considered the others through slitted eyes. Though they were closer they weren't close enough for him to hear the woman's startled gasp of surprise, or hear what word that came out half smothered by the noise of shock. The blue clad Malkuth took one step back; sweeping an arm behind him the Necromancer took a half step back, drawing his spear out of nothingness with a gaudy show of light. Asch stared into those red eyes -or rather would have had distance permitted- and wondered to himself if the Necromancer was aware of the fact that he was standing protectively over the small Fon Master Guardian.

Ex-Fon Master Guardian rather, Asch corrected himself, after all Ion was dead. Flicking his emerald gaze off the Necromancer he stared at Anise Tatlin and let his lips curl into a mocking smile. He wondered if she was privy to his thoughts, probably not, for her expression while edged with surprise wasn't hostile. So, in all probability, she wasn't aware of his scorn. You never left the one you treasured alone, you never let them get hurt, and while his physical presence in Natalia's life wasn't plausible he had hardly lowered his surveillance over her.

Replica's were... so very useful sometimes.

"Asch!"

His smile, once mocking, turned gentle as he lifted his gaze and looked to the speaker. The only difference between the two was in his eyes, or so Noir had once told him on one occasion. Still, it was a difference he felt. A faint flush of pleasure rushed to his face, while not as apparent as blood, it reached up and lit his eyes from within.

"Natalia." He raised an eyebrow to convey his mock surprise. "Whatever are you doing here?"


	7. Chapter 7

Bloody Abyss 

Chapter 7

Into the thick...

It was a trial not to draw his blade and attack, especially after the replica started to blatantly flaunt his stupidity. After taking a tedious span to restate the obvious, Luke began to badger his original with a slew of unimportant questions. Arms crossed over his chest, Asch stared blankly at a point beyond the replica's head, mentally hoping that an abundance of patience would seep into his restless soul.

It wouldn't do to kill the dreck in front of Natalia, after all.

Fortune wasn't smiling on him today. Annoyed by the lack of response, Luke strode forward, crossing the distance between them in a few confident steps. The replica reached out with a brown-gloved hand and set it on his original's shoulder in a show of "brotherly" concern. It took all of Asch's formidable self-control not to curl his hand into a fist and slam it into Luke's midsection. As it was, he endured the touch for all of five seconds before shrugging it off.

"Seems I've wasted my time here," Asch snapped caustically, taking a sliver of pleasure as pain flashed across the replica's face. "I'll go on alone." He paused, gathered himself, and in his most biting tones snapped, "Don't you people have something better to do than muck around in the middle of nowhere?"

Tapping a blue-gloved finger against his lower lip, the Necromancer's lips curled into their omnipresent, mocking smile as he said, "It seems to me, Asch the Bloody, that you have nothing else better to do." Snarling, Asch whirled to glare at the man. Ignoring the show of hostility, Jade lifted his hand to his forehead, setting the back of his wrist against his head. The Necromancer continued holding his wrist to his head while he talked. "Running to and fro must be quite the strain upon you. Is this, perhaps, your favored vacationing spot?"

"Shut up."

Chuckling, the Necromancer lowered his hand, and something like steel flickered in those crimson eyes. "Yes... Yes, of course..."

Confused by the contrast -- the verbal submission coupled with the gaze that was anything but -- Asch stepped back, fingering his sword. Out of habit, he wore the Maestro blade commissioned to him by Van years ago; the Key was hidden within his quarters up on the Albiore. Not that he was going to reveal that to the owner of those crimson eyes. Though the God-General suspected that the owner of those blood-hued orbs was well aware of his secrets, he wasn't sure. So he held to his silence.

Unable to hold herself in check, the pig-tailed girl clad in pink giggled at the free show. Annoyed, Asch clenched the hilt of his blade. Enough was enough. He'd grind the annoying Malkuthite into the dirt later, but for now he had things to do.

"Oh, Natalia," Anise piped, straining to make her voice as harsh as the God General's. "I'll go. Never fear; I'll save Aunt Suzy for you!"

Lips quirking into a grin, Luke chuckled while Tear bit her lip to keep from laughing. That was all the encouragement the minute Fon Master Guardian needed. Widening her grin, she made a half step forward, hand over her breast, eyes wide in false adoration.

"Oh, Asch, you mustn't. It's so dangerous!"

A strange choking sound came from Guy. Snarling, Asch pinned his ex-servant with a death glare.

"Sorry," Guy choked, "but damn, she's right, you know."

With a sniff, Anise dropped the act and crossed the distance between them. Asch watched her with narrowed eyes, his hand forever curled around the hilt of his blade. "Well, Mr. 'Dark, Tall, and Lukey', we're going to save Aunt Suzy too." The guardian was close enough to reach out and touch him, and she did, brazenly poking him in the gut. "So you can shove the whole I-don't-care-about-anything-and-anyone act, or you can wait here while we go get the medicine."

With forced nonchalance, Asch stepped aside and made a mocking '"ladies first" bow in her direction. Surprised, Anise frowned, bit her lip, and looked up at him. Doubt and confusion were prominent on her small face; the war between anger and confusion was apparent on her young features. He smirked at her, then lifted his gaze to encompass them all.

"Go ahead," he invited, refusing to meet Natalia's confused eyes. "But tell me, before you set off: do you even know what the Rugnican Death Cap looks like? And are you aware of how it differs from the Great Rugnican Death Cap?"

Their collective silence and the Necromancer's thoughtful frown were damning in his eyes.

"I thought as much."

Turning on his heel, he made to leave them. Natalia was alright; he'd settle for knowing that and for firmly banishing her from this place. It was too dangerous for her to be wandering around here, anyway. Even with the pack of fools following her and offering their meager protection...

"W... wait, we'll go with you!"

Shaking off his hesitance, the replica started forward, his hand outstretched as if to settle on Asch's shoulder. Asch brushed the touch aside with his free hand, his sword arm tensed as he shifted his grip on hilt of his blade.

"I'll see you all in hell fir--"

Quietly clearing her throat, Natalia cut across Asch's anger with that one sound faster than any reasoning could.

"Perhaps... Perhaps Asch could lead us, Luke, and you and... some others could stay here?"

"I don't think I like the idea of splitting up," Anise admitted, craning her neck up to stare at the towering specie of fungi around them.

"Not in a strange place like this," Guy said, shivering a little. "Is no one but me bothered about the fact that those things are bigger than buildings? I swear, that's not a hill." Guy muttered the last under his breath, his eyes darting to a bright green mound in the distance. Sparing it a glance, Asch shrugged. It might be shivering, or it might be the mix of the fungus spores and miasma haze that made it appear to move.

"A healer apiece, one to hold the fort and the other to go with the group, would be the best. A swordsman, a fonist, and a healer per group would allow for some balance." Running her slender fingers though her brown hair, Tear thoughtfully tilted her head to the side. "A small group would be less prone to attract attention."

"However," Jade countered in his quiet voice, "a small group would be more likely to be assaulted by the -- shall we say -- _local wildlife_, if that isn't something of an oxymoron."

As Tear and Jade began to argue tactics, Natalia cast an impatient glance at the road, "road" being an operative word for the flattened, mold-encrusted span that seemed to lead deeper into the wilds of Mushroom Road. Princess and God-General shared an exasperated look as the talk dragged on. When it became apparent that the Oracle Knight and Malkuth Colonel were going to talk until the world ended, Asch made a scornful noise in his throat and turned on his heel. He was going to walk off; it was a stupid argument, and he wasn't taking any of them with him no matter how it ended.

Petty and small was the juvenile voice that chimed that stupidity might be catchy and that avoidance was worth a thousand fold more than a shred of cure. That decided him. He loosened his weapon in its sheath and began to walk away...

... And was held back by the mere uttering of his name.

"Asch, will you please be still? Just for a little longer?" Natalia huffed.

He froze, turned, and let out a little sigh of defeat as she pinned him with her most hopeful smile. His stubborn resistance didn't _quite_ melt under the princess's argument, his knees didn't _quite_ start to knock together under that open show of hope and affection she pinned on him.

But it was a very near thing.

Wiping a sheen of sweat -a side affect from the heat of the day, nothing more!- from his brow, Asch sheathed his blade with a quiet growl.

Eyes wide, exuding innocence when she was anything but, Anise Tatlin looked from Kimlascan Princess to fallen Kimlascan Noble. Analysis done, the little girl flashed Natalia a wide impish grin. "Wow, how'd you get him to do that? Does he do other tricks, like roll over? I'd pay good Gald to see him beg..."

"Shut up!"

Conversation between the Colonel and Tear stopped. Shocked silence fell upon their little span of Mushroom Road and as a whole the group of Malkuth and Kimlascan personages turned to stare in shock. Natalia, whose face was fast turning hue that would serve as a perfect match to Asch's hair, flinched back from their stares.

"Wh.. what I meant to say,-" Natalia stammered, struggling to regain some of her composure. "-was that what you are implying, is absurd. Asch is not a dog, and people do not do tricks, like animals. I find the comparison you're just exposed insulting to say the very least..."

Natalia's speech fell upon unbelieving, strained, silence. Then the silence was broken, by a strange tight noise that might have been a smothered laugh. They turned then, to Asch. The God-General quickly kicked off his coughing fit and looked upon them with grim green eyes.

"I'm leaving. Now. Make up you're minds as to who goes quickly, because I don't have all day."

And so saying he turned on his heel and made as if to walk the length and breadth of Mushroom Road alone. From behind, the sounds of them hastily making up their minds and racing to catch up were sweet music to his ears.


End file.
